


Something to Talk About

by silentrevyrie



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 00:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30081015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentrevyrie/pseuds/silentrevyrie
Summary: They’re just friends. It isn’t their fault the press has made it something it isn’t.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 11
Kudos: 203





	Something to Talk About

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ for the 2009 Valentine’s exchange. Prompt was “Mirandy at IKEA.”

_3pm. Andy rolled her eyes as she tapped out a reply to the text message.  
  
Can't. Not at office. Will be back by 5. She hit the "send" button and had barely forced the Blackberry back into her pocket before it began to ring. A glance at the display elicited another eye roll.  
  
"Well…?" No salutation. Just "well…?" Of course.  
  
"I can't possibly be done sooner," Andy responded. "I'll be back at the Mirror by 5, have my article filed by 5:20, and be out the door by 5:25."  
  
  
"Where on earth are you?"  
  
  
"IK—Shopping." Andy caught herself mid-fatal slip-of-the-tongue.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"1 Beard St. In Brooklyn," Andy sighed. This wasn't worth fighting over.  
  
"Don't go anywhere." And then Andy heard a click, followed by silence. Unbelievable. No, worse than unbelievable. Typical. She ditched her still-empty shopping bag on a bunk bed display before doubling back for the entrance. She was far too kind to let Miranda Priestly loose on an unsuspecting group of unfortunate store employees.  
  
_

**************

_  
  
  
Miranda had no idea where Andrea was. She crossed over to Brooklyn so infrequently that she could actually recall each visit, the most recent having been six months ago when she had to supervise a re-shoot at Grand Army Plaza. Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda caught a glimpse of bright yellow as the car slowed to a stop. Her neutral expression quickly morphed into a subtle frown as she took in the blue industrial building before her.  
  
  
"Roy," Miranda drawled, "why aren't we moving?"  
  
"This is the address you gave me," Roy replied. After thirteen years in her employ, Roy was one of the very few people allowed to be so candid with Miranda.  
  
"You must be mistaken…" Miranda trailed off. This was Andrea, after all. "Never mind." She swiftly exited the car. From behind her designer sunglasses she scanned the building for an entrance until her eyes settled upon Andrea.  
  
"I told you I'd be done by 5:30," she stated as she approached.  
  
"You said you were shopping." Miranda's tone was almost clipped. She was not happy.  
  
"I am!" Andrea was on the defensive.  
  
"Andrea," Miranda started, "This is not shopping. This is…a tragedy."  
  
"Miranda," Andrea paused. "Miranda, I need a new bed. This is in my price range. And does it really matter what's in my apartment? Think of it this way: I can spend something like $400 on a bed frame and mattress here and then have money left over to get that gorgeous Marc Jacobs purse from last month's issue, or I can spend a ridiculous amount of money…anywhere else and probably not be able to pay my rent next month, but at least I'd have an overpriced bed!"  
  
Miranda rolled her eyes. "You're incredibly melodramatic. Let's just get this over with." By this time, they'd made it to the entrance of the store. Miranda steeled herself for the experience; she'd never actually been to an IKEA before, but as far as she could tell, it wasn't going to be all that incredible.  
_

**************

  
  
There was something odd that happened whenever Miranda entered a room. She'd barely be in the door when all of a sudden it seemed that everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare for a moment before suddenly busying themselves again. This didn't just happen at Runway. This happened anywhere they went. It wasn't necessarily that anyone recognized Miranda. Oftentimes no one did, or if they did, they were smart enough not to make it known. Nevertheless, this phenomenon was something Andy had gotten used to at this point. Their entrance to IKEA was no different, but the frenzied activity following the staring was more frenetic than usual. There had been one employee, who looked to be about Andy's age, who continued to stare long after the others had resumed activity. Neither Andy nor Miranda noticed that when the young woman finally moved again, it was to take out her cell phone and call every gossip tip line she could think of.  
  
  


**************

  
  
  
It had been thirteen weeks and three days since the news had broken that Andy and Miranda were an item. Andy's favorite headline had been something about the IKEA excursion's purpose being to purchase furnishings for their Lower East Side love nest. After all, the headline had been half right, as the shopping trip had been to buy a bed for an apartment on the Lower East Side, but it was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a love nest; Miranda had never actually been there.  
  
  
For the first three weeks after they'd been "outed," Miranda had insisted that Andy stay far, far away from her. She'd had Leslie issue her usual statement. Miranda refused to comment on her personal life and relationships and asked the press to respect that, not that they ever did. Andy found it interesting that Miranda hadn't issued a flat-out denial. After all, they weren't an item. They weren't involved. They were friends. Just friends.  
  
Three weeks and two days after they'd been "outed," Miranda had decided that it was completely ridiculous that they hadn't seen each other at all during that time because of what the press might say. She'd called Andy at the Mirror and informed her that she'd be joining Miranda and the girls for dinner at the townhouse that evening. Andy had been too stunned by the sudden contact that she blindly accepted. She was glad to think they were finally moving on from hiding from the paparazzi. This meant she hadn't been expecting to be ambushed by photographers upon her arrival at Miranda's home. She still didn't understand why they hadn't moved on. Wasn't there something more interesting than two friends having dinner?  
  
Seven weeks and six days after they'd been "outed," Miranda had insisted that Andy accompany her and the girls to see a Broadway show. The show itself had been delightful, and Andy had really enjoyed it. What Andy did not enjoy was having to shield herself, Caroline, and Cassidy from the paparazzi outside the theatre. They hadn't been there when the foursome arrived at the theatre before the show, and they'd left Miranda alone for two solid weeks before that night. Andy hadn't been expecting it, but the unflattering picture that showed up in the next day's papers with an even less flattering caption had been a little unnecessary, she thought.  
  
Twelve weeks and one day after they'd been "outed," Miranda had come to Andy with a proposition. "Let's give them something to talk about," she'd said. That was when the plan had gone into action. The past nine days had been filled with staged appearances and play-acted "couple" moments, including a "romantic" walk through Central Park. Andy hadn't been prepared for that one, and by the end of the excursion she'd really regretted wearing those adorable but highly painful Manolos that day.  
  
Thirteen weeks and four days after they'd been "outed," Miranda and Andy were having lunch at some chic new eatery when suddenly, everything changed. They hadn't said much while eating and Miranda had seemed uncomfortable for the duration of the meal. Andy was about to break the silence when Miranda beat her to the punch.  
  
"What would you say to trying this for real?" Miranda asked, pushing the remains of her lunch around her plate with her knife.  
  
"Trying what for real?" Andy had no idea what Miranda was talking about.  
  
Miranda looked exasperated. "This. Us. Together."  
  
"Oh." Andy was at a loss for words.  
  
"Your verbal proficiency astounds me, Andrea." Miranda rolled her eyes.  
  
Andy sat across from Miranda in silence for the better part of five minutes. She glanced towards the large pane of glass that was the restaurant's front wall. Sure enough, the vultures were outside, and they had a clear shot of Miranda and Andy no matter where they were. Perfect.  
  
"Miranda," Andy whispered, just loudly enough for the editor to hear her.  
  
"Hmm?" Miranda locked eyes with Andrea.  
  
"Okay." Andy didn't give Miranda the chance to respond before leaning across the table to kiss her. Even with her eyes closed, Andy could tell that the paparazzi were having a field day. She couldn't help but wonder how many versions of this photo they'd see tomorrow.  
  
After what felt like an eternity, but in a good way, Andy pulled back. She looked at Miranda, whose piercing blue eyes were sparkling like they did when she realized that she was absolutely in control and on top of everything.   
  
"Shall we?" she asked, glancing at the door.  
  
Andy didn't respond. Instead, she reached across the table and took Miranda's hand. She almost lost it when she and Miranda both donned the exact same pair of Chanel sunglasses; both women had been too preoccupied to notice when they'd met up two hours earlier. Their accidental matching, like everything else about their unlikely relationship, was perfect. Absolutely perfect. 


End file.
